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Nobody who has ever written thought that writing is easy. When on top of the desire to write, you also have a desire to get published, it’s even harder. It’s like climbing a mountain while being pulled back on an invisible string every now and then. Every finished novel is a personal victory, but life and rejection can pull you back, further away from your dream.

I read about it so many times, it’s part talent, part luck to break into the industry. Well, I think the luck I ordered got lost in the mail. I’ve been taking an unwanted break with publishing because I started a new job two years ago, but now I’m querying a novel that I hadn’t gotten around to querying yet. It’s a novel that’s inspired by the Adams family and is about a woman who can see how everyone dies everytime she touches them. She lives a secluded life, therefore, but then something prompts her to visit a nearby town and she gets entangled in the mysterious house on the hill. Her life is turned upside down and she makes friends and enemies. The novel also has a romance that makes even me swoon. It’s a story I’m very passionate about. I’m so happy I can finally query it.

It’s important to keep writing and keep trying. It’s also important to have hope, but that part gets a bit harder each time. Self-doubt is an ugly monster that you don’t want under your bed. But it also makes me realise it’s time for action. I’ve gotten a hang of my job, so I can afford to focus on my writing now. What a relief, because I hated not having an outlet for my creativity. I ordered a few books on writing (like I don’t have enough) that are bit more motivational and less about technique, as well as on how to try and actually experience success with your novel. It still doesn’t make me lucky, but it will happen one day. I just wish that day was here sooner than later.

Books, books, books, books, books. For a writer books are pivotal if you want your soul to survive and stay weird and writer-y, as opposed to normal. I mean, think about it, what if our souls could survive on thoughts and feelings regarding the household, shopping, and whether or not our neighbour likes us.

No, our soul needs to swim in the energy of the worlds that we read about, the beautiful words that are constructed like an intricate sculpture. Energy we need every day or our souls will slowly dwindle down to Normal.

There are so many things good for us. So many things we should do daily, like walking/exercising, meditate, hug someone, drink water, and all that kind of nonsense. Well, I’m here to tell you that reading should be on that list too. Because if reading is on there, writing will surely follow. Trust me, I know. I’ve had the writing itch for a long time but my fingertips don’t bleed ink anymore, they’re dry. I know why. It’s because I can hardly remember the last time that I read anything other than the tests my students make. This year has been so hectic and stressful that I SHOULD have been writing my ass off, diving into other worlds and lives than my own, but the thing you really do when you get home is fall down on the sofa and find that you’re stuck to it. An invisible person has glued you to it, and that invisible person is called Stress.

Now it’s the Christmas holiday and I have a moment to breathe. More importantly, I get to read! And wow, have I missed it. Also, now the writing muscle needs training again. Why not start with a blog post? (I have missed you, Bloggy.) And after that, work on a story, no matter how rubbish I may have gotten with all that slacking off.

Then again, it really does help to remind myself, that writers don’t need to write in order to write. And any time my mind has wondered off (and it has done so often) conjuring up images of tough chicks, lonely detectives, murders, unusual people, and unexplained situations, I have been writing. I HAVE BEEN WRITING.

I feel like I should celebrate by giving something away. What do you want? WHAT DO YOU WANT? I have virtual hugs, tea, cookies, and err an extra candle lying around here somewhere. Hmm, I’m clearly a writer judging by the amount of poor. Well, then. How about I write something extremely profound as my 100th blog post?

Right. I’ll do that. But before I do that, let me tell you that writing all these hundred posts has been incredibly fun. It’s a bit tricky when life gets in the way and it’s difficult to come up with new stuff to share, but it’s worth it. It’s amazing to connect with other people from around the world and to be able to share the occasional pearl of wisdom. *cough*

So, I should now get to the profound part, right? Right. *starts whistling a tune* Oh, I know! I could write about I CAN’T DO IT! I CAN’T TAKE THE PRESSURE. I’ll end it right here and I’ll do better on the next shiny post that will arrive on your screen tomorrow.

I’m out. *drops keyboard* *walks away with swagger* *trips*

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In the middle of the night I wake up from a dreamless sleep and there she is. For days I’ve been trying to get her to talk to me. To show herself to me so that I can open the door to adventure. But no, she wasn’t ready. Perhaps shy? No, that doesn’t seem to suit her. She’s spunky and sarcastic and her outfit suggests she isn’t afraid of attention. Right now, that’s exactly what she wants. I really want to sleep, but at the same time I also like what she’s saying. I fly out of bed and return quickly with a pen and paper. I start writing and don’t stop until after an hour or so. When I look down at the piece of paper I proudly examine the first chapter I’ve written. The first chapter of what will be an amazing story. I know this, because I know my character. I won’t tell her that, though, because it will go straight to her head. It’s good when characters don’t know what will happen to them. It makes things more fun. It also allows them to surprise you.

This girl, she doesn’t surprise me, but she does keep me on my toes. She invades my sleep the first time I meet her but it doesn’t stop there. I’m grateful for her existence. I’m glad she trusts me, but it’s a double edged sword. Now she refuses to leave me alone. It’s both annoying and exhilarating. She wants to know what will happen next, and next, and next. She is eager to experience this journey and I’m eager to watch it on the screen of my mind. But isn’t it hard, writers? When you’re talking to someone and you’re engaged in an interesting conversation. And then to have her be interested in the conversation too. Before you know it she’s right there next to you, wanting to butt in so that you can’t even appear like a normal person anymore. Distraction mode activated! Sometimes she even wants me to buy her a drink. And let us not forget the moments you’re in the bathroom and she pops up to tell you something super important where it would be rude if you didn’t write them down immediately. Who cares if your pants are down? We’re fierce writers! And she knows it. When you finally feel like you can sleep and let the day go, you feel someone staring at you and there she is again. She pokes your ribs until you get up again. When watching TV she sits next to you and laughs at all the stupid jokes people make until you become so annoyed that you pick up your pen again.

Oh, my character. So manipulative. Yet so…awesome. But hang in there, writer, because before you know it the story is finished and your character gratefully waves goodbye as you close the book. I love those moments. I always take a moment to appreciate it. I sigh and stare at my desk, proud of what I’ve accomplished. And I’m happy with the break. The moment of freedom. Ah, yes. It’s so nice. And then I come out of the shower and see another one. It begins again…

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Yes, yes, I know it’s September. (Actually, I’m always terrible at remembering what month it is, except for October because it’s my favourite month and December because that’s when my birthday is.) Anyway, I’m talking about that spring cleaning…for the mind! And no, this won’t be about meditation or tai chi (bless you!).

This is about cleaning up. No, seriously. Stop looking at me like that. If you’ve ever seen my room you’ll probably laugh and question whether I even know what the verb means, but that’s because I’m bad at tidying up when it’s loud in my head. I am, however, good at it when my mind is beginning to overflow with thoughts. It’s like nothing more can go in and there’s a certain peace that accompanies that. That’s when cleaning up and organising becomes therapeutic. Especially when you start with the place you are at most of the time. For me that is my desk.

Now, I won’t bother you with before and after pics of my desk, mainly because I’m too ashamed of the before picture. I can tell you that the result is pretty darn fine, if I do say so myself. (Who else would be saying it?) And I do feel instantly better and productive and all that grown up stuff. Feeling proud and happy with the result also makes me excited to get to the next part of my room. I know, I’m weird. I’m one of those people who enjoys cleaning up their room in the weekend. But then again, I’m also one of those people who is thrilled to spend an entire Saturday organising notebooks and paper clips.